


Weak

by Yunimori



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Emotions, Gen, Overwhelmed, Short One Shot, State of Mind, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunimori/pseuds/Yunimori
Summary: Writing Prompt from TumblrSometimes emotions are just too much for Shockwave to handle. Sometimes his immunocompromised body reacting, added to emotions, is even more overwhelming, and he doesn't know how to deal with it. Unfortunately, he's not always with someone who can help him when this happens, and he has to figure out how to manage on his own. This usually doesn't end well.





	Weak

**Author's Note:**

> I'm copying all of my Shockwave and Optimus/Shockwave ficlets and drabbles from my tumblr accounts over to my ao3 account. Most of these are going to be incredibly short (hence the drabble tag), and either in short-form format or 100 Themes Challenge format.
> 
> This is just for my own peace of mind, making sure they are safe from tumblr's random purges.
> 
> However, feel free to read them and let me know if you enjoyed them!

The sound of glass shattering, echoing in the empty room, made Shockwave flinch back, closing his eyes as though he were waiting on something to strike him in the face. Usually, with that sound, something _was_. Not today, though. Today it was just…him.

For the sixth time today, he had dropped a glass. For the _fourth_ time, it had shattered. Shockwave opened his eyes, staring over his glasses at the hazy glint of shards once again littering the lab floor, with something akin to resignation. Everyone dropped a glass once in a while, right? As long as it wasn’t a beaker full of contagious materials, it was nothing to really worry about. It wasn’t that big of a deal. It was alright, right?

Except it wasn’t. Not really.

His eyes moved from the glass in the floor to his hands, staring _through _his glasses this time so he could actually see them. They were shaking, trembling as though he were trapped outside in a snowstorm again instead of in a climate-controlled lab room. Pins and needles raced through his fingertips, leaving the rest of his hands without sensation whatsoever, other than the deep, throbbing ache that he’d become so used to that he never even paid attention to it any longer. No wonder he had dropped the glass. Again.

With a quiet sigh, Shockwave dropped his hands, stepping carefully out of the glass to move to the corner, where the broom was kept, grabbing it and turning around, frowning at the bluish-tinted glass _all_ over the floor. Yet another mess of his own making to clean up. Wouldn’t be the first time, much less the first time _today_.

He’d made it halfway back across the floor with the broom before his hand simply gave way. The broom fell to the floor with a soft _clack_ that sounded like a gunshot to Shockwave’s ears. He flinched again, unable to help it, and knelt in the same instant, picking the broom up while silently berating himself for being so _clumsy_. He barely made it fully upright again before his hand spasmed, the broom hitting the floor in the exact same position it had been in a moment earlier.

Tears of frustration sprang unbidden to Shockwave’s eyes. Part of him wanted to scream, knowing his nerves were shot and that was making his disease act up more than usual. Part of him wanted to sigh in resigned patience, knowing that this _wasn’t the first time_ and he just had to _deal_. Patience won out after Shockwave spent a moment staring blindly at the floor, and he sighed, dropping down to grab the broom with _both_ hands this time, standing carefully and moving back to the glass.

He managed to get it all swept into a neat pile, ready for the dustpan, before his hands gave up on him again. This time he fumbled the broom, making it spin end over end through the air and knock into one of the other lab tables before it hit the floor, taking both a cup full of pens and a case of plastic pipettes with it, all of which scattered all over the floor.

For a moment, Shockwave just stood there, those frustrated tears making a comeback, before he just…couldn’t _deal_ any longer.

A short while later, when Rewind poked his head into the room, wondering what all the banging had been about, he was met with broken glass, pens, and pipettes still scattered across the floor. The broom lay in the middle of the room, pointing almost accusingly toward the back wall, untouched from where it had fallen.

Shockwave was sitting curled up in the floor behind the lab tables, his head buried in his arms to muffle the sound of his shaky breaths. 

His hands were still trembling.


End file.
